


The PTO Meeting, or a Tale Told in Erik's Anger

by lord_of_the_phantom



Category: Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: F/M, PTO meeting, SHERILYN DON'T DISS THE OPERA HOUSE, Slight Violence, brownie-flipping, cuteness, ultimate fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 17:33:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10496079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lord_of_the_phantom/pseuds/lord_of_the_phantom
Summary: Erik, Christine, and their three children go to a kindergarten PTO meeting. Erik's anger gets slightly out of control. Blame Sherilyn.Loki_Wholock told me to write this. It's rather odd.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Loki_Wholock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_Wholock/gifts).



Christine smiled as she buttoned up her oldest daughter’s coat. Erik was doing the same for their son, and their six-month-old baby girl, Felicienne, was sleeping peacefully in her carriage. The oldest girl, Angele, looked up at her mother. “Maman? I don’t want to go.”  
Christine tilted her head. “Why, sweetie?” she asked, standing up.  
“I just don’t. Meetings are no fun.”  
Corbett, their son, nodded. “I don’t like ‘em either.”  
Erik lifted Corbett into the air, examining the small scar on his son’s face. A marker that he was Erik’s son. And Erik hated that he had blighted his child like this. “None of us do. But we must go. Christine, do you have the cupcakes?”  
Christine nodded, standing and picking up Felicienne’s carrier. The little baby began to cry, displeased at being stirred. “Shh, it’ll be okay, darling,” Christine whispered, placing a finger over Felicienne’s mouth. “Erik, take Angele and Corbett out to the car. And get the cupcakes on your way. I’ll try to hush Lici,” she said.  
Erik took Angele’s hand, still holding Corbett. “Come on, you two. It’s almost time to go.”  
Angele looked up at her father. “But I don’t want to go!” she whined. Felicienne began to cry again, having almost been quieted. “Sorry, Maman. Sorry, Lici.” Christine smiled.  
“You are forgiven, Angele. And I’m sure Felicienne forgives you as well. Now, go with your father.”  
Erik led the children out to the car and strapped Angele into her booster seat. Then he turned to Corbett. “Oh dear,” he muttered.  
Corbett looked up at him. “What, Papa?” he asked, tilting his head.  
“Maman usually straps you in, doesn’t she?” Corbett nodded. “This could be bad. Cor, do you have any idea how this works?” He shook his head. Erik groaned and put his hand up to his forehead. The two-year-old hugged his father.  
“S’okay, Papa. I don’t need a car seat anyway!” Corbett cheered.  
“Yes he does! Papa, don’t let him ride without a car seat! He might get hurt!” Angele cried. Even at four, Angele was a carbon copy of her mother, with only a little bit of Erik’s personality. She was always worrying about the rest of her family.  
Erik sighed. “I won’t. Sorry, Cor, but you know how Mini Maman is. And your mother would be so upset if you didn’t ride in a car seat.” Corbett groaned. “I know, little man.”  
Just then, Christine strode out, holding Felicienne in one hand and a purse in the other. “Do you have them strapped in?” She locked the door behind her and proceeded to the car. “Oh, Erik, you didn’t get Corbett in!”  
“Sorry, love, but you usually buckle him in. I can’t work a car seat.” Erik shrugged. “Here. I’ll get Lici in. Then you won’t have to worry about her.”  
Christine nodded. “Be careful with her. I finally got her to sleep and I really don’t want her crying the whole way there.” She handed Erik the sleeping baby and he quickly fastened her in.  
“There you go, Felicienne. You’re good now,” Erik said, kissing his littlest daughter’s forehead.  
Angele smiled at her mother. “If Lici starts crying, I can calm her down.”  
“Thank you, darling. There you go, Cor. Erik, can you drive?”  
Erik nodded, noticing that Christine looked rather flustered. “You okay, Christine?” he questioned, opening the door for her. She nodded.  
“Just a bit stressed. So, Angele, are you ready for us to meet Mademoiselle Devereux?” Christine asked.  
“Yes, Maman! Mademoiselle Devereux loves me. She can’t wait to meet you.” Angele flashed a winning smile. Corbett gagged. “Maman!”  
“Cor, be nice to your sister,” Erik scolded. “She’s generally nice to you. Right, guys?” Corbett nodded grudgingly. “Ange, you do have the cupcakes, don’t you?”  
“Yes, Papa. I hope none of them fall. No one will like me if I bring messy cupcakes!” Angele moaned.  
Christine sighed. “Everyone will love you, Angele. And didn’t you already say you had three friends? Rosemarie, Chantelle, and Manon?” Angele nodded right as Erik ran straight into a bump. The cupcakes went flying and thudded onto the floor.  
“Papa! Why’d you do that!” Angele cried, scrambling to pick up the tray of cupcakes. “Now no one will like me!” A tear dripped from Angele’s bright green eyes.  
Erik sighed. It hurt him to see his little daughter like this, especially knowing that it was his fault that she was so distressed. “Ange,” he said. His daughter didn’t meet his eyes. His heart stung. Why did he have to upset his precious Angele? “Ange, please.” She still didn’t look at him.  
They rode the rest of the way to the school in total silence.  
When they arrived, Angele tried to run off, but Christine caught the hood of her coat. “Maman, let me go!” she howled.  
“Not until you forgive your father. This is silly, Angele. No one will care if the cupcakes are squished as long as they taste good. And if Rosemarie, Chantelle, and Manon are really your friends, they’ll still love you. If they don’t, then you don’t need them in your life,” Christine said. “Now, go talk to Papa. He’s really torn up about this, Ange.”  
Angele nodded. “Okay, Mommy.” She skipped off, smiling. “Salut, Papa!” she said, grinning.  
Erik smiled. “Bonjour, darling.” He shifted Corbett to make carrying him easier on his arm. “How’s Felicienne?”  
“She seems good. Mama’s got her. Hey, Papa?”  
“Yes, sweetheart.”  
“I’m sorry for being a brat earlier. I shouldn’t have gotten upset over cupcakes like I did. It was silly. I love you, Papa.”  
Erik smiled. “You are forgiven, dear Angele. Now run along. Mama may need help finding Mademoiselle Devereux’s room.” Angele grinned and ran up to her mother.  
“Papa?” Corbett said.  
Erik turned to face his son, not daring to look at the scar trailing down his cheek. “Yes, Cor?” he asked, hugging him.  
“I want to go home.” Corbett snuggled against his father. “I don’t want to be here. This is Ange’s meeting. Why do we have to come?” he whimpered.  
“Because Maman said we had to, and we never argue with your Maman. Trust me. I’ve argued with her before and it never ends well. Now, can you walk now? My arm is getting tired.” Corbett shook his head. “Oh, Cor. What are we going to do with you?” The two-year-old shrugged.  
Christine stretched her hand and shifted Felicienne’s carrier to the other arm. “I really should’ve brought the stroller,” she muttered, looking down at the sleeping baby.  
Angele heard her mother’s statement and tugged on her coattail. “Maman? Do you want me to carry Lici for a little while?” she asked. Angele wanted to help her mother, but of course, entrusting a baby to a four-year-old who was easily distracted didn’t sound like a good plan to Christine.  
“I’m good, Angele. We’re almost to the classroom, aren’t we?” Christine said. Angele nodded again.  
“It’s right here!” Angele said, gesturing to a kindergarten classroom. The sign on the door, sure enough, read Mademoiselle Devereux. “Come on!”  
Erik held the door open for his family and kissed his wife’s cheek as she walked by, cupcakes in one hand and Felicienne in the other. Christine blushed. “Love you,” she mouthed, knowing that Corbett and Angele would get all disgusted if they said something like that aloud.  
The family took a seat toward the back, hoping they wouldn’t get noticed. Of course, Mademoiselle Devereux, a young woman who appeared to be around twenty-one, saw them. “Angele!” the teacher said, running to the back to see the little girl. “How are you?”  
Angele smiled and smoothed her skirt, having shed her coat at the door. “I’m good, Mademoiselle Devereux. How are you?”  
“I’m good. Are these your parents and siblings, Angele?”  
Christine stood up. “My name is Christine. It’s nice to meet you, Mademoiselle Devereux. Angele seems to love you.”  
“It’s nice to meet you, Madame. And please, call me Isaline. Is this your husband?”  
Christine smiled. “It is. Aren’t you going to introduce yourself, darling? My apologies. He isn’t that social most of the time.” Mademoiselle Devereux stifled a laugh.  
Erik groaned. “I’m Erik. Angele’s father.”  
“Pleasure to meet you, monsieur.” Mademoiselle Devereux curtsied. “Now, who’s this cutie?” She leaned down and looked at Corbett. The little boy squealed and hid behind his mother’s leg.  
“It’s okay, sweetie, you can trust Mademoiselle Isaline,” Christine said, hugging him. “Sorry. He’s a bit shy.”  
“J’mappelle Corbett,” he said. Mademoiselle Devereux smiled. “I’m Angele’s petit frère.”  
The teacher smiled. “And who’s this darling?”  
Angele bounced up and looked Mademoiselle Devereux right in the eyes. “That’s my baby sister Felicienne! She’s super cute, isn’t she? Maman, can she hold Lici?” Angele bombarded her teacher with questions.  
Mademoiselle Devereux laughed. “I’m fine, Angele. You guys stay here. The meeting’s about to begin.” With that, she walked to the front of the classroom. Angele sat down on one side of her father’s lap while Corbett huddled on the other side.  
The meeting went well, nothing interesting really happening. The interesting part came later. Everyone was lined up for food and Erik struck up a conversation with a woman named Sherilyn Descartes.  
“So, what is your opinion on the opera house?” Erik asked. He was always looking for people’s thoughts on his business, though it never ended well if people disliked it. “It’s a nice place, isn’t it?”  
Sherilyn shook her head. “How could anyone like operas! They’re so boring and all they do is sing!” Christine looked down at Angele and Corbett, then ushered them behind her. There was a large chance of it turning ugly and she didn’t want her children cowering in fear from their father. At least Felicienne was too young to care.  
Erik’s face turned beet-red. “‘All they do is sing?’ Madame, I must say that you are mistaken! There is acting, and beautiful storylines, and everything you could ever want! How can you hate them so?”  
Christine walked up to Erik. “Calm down, my love. Everyone has their opinions.”  
“I shall not calm down! Not until I have defended the honor of my opera house!” Erik cried. “Take the children outside. I don’t want them to see me like this.” Christine nodded.  
“I’ll be back to support you.”  
“No, angel. This could end badly and I don’t want you to see me in such a state of anger.” Christine hugged him and walked outside with Angele, Corbett, and Felicienne. “Now that’s over…”  
Sherilyn glared at Erik. “How do you tolerate that endless singing and rambling?” she muttered. That was too much for Erik. He lunged at Sherilyn, knocking over a pan of brownies in the process. One of the mothers gasped and ran for the brownies, but they were beyond help. A fistfight (or sort of catfight) broke out between the two. Mademoiselle Devereux ran toward them and held them apart.  
Christine ran back in and looked at Erik. “What the heck, Erik? How do you manage to get into fights with every single person we meet?” she asked, her look quickly turning into a glare.  
He shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry, love. We should probably go now.”  
Mademoiselle Devereux nodded. “Yes, monsieur, you should. It was lovely to meet you, and here’s some food for Angele and Corbett, but you should probably leave. Au revoir!” she said, ushering Erik and Christine out.  
Christine stayed behind for a moment. “Mademoiselle?” she said. “I’m sorry about Erik. He doesn’t have the greatest social skills and is very…violent with his opinions. I will not be bringing him to the next PTO meeting.”  
“I believe that is wise. You are welcome to come to the next meeting, but leave Monsieur Erik at home, sil vous plait.”  
The rest of the night was extremely awkward and no one spoke much.


End file.
